city_limits_npc (city_limits_npc) wrote in city_limits, @ 2009-04-15 20:23:00 |
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Entry tags: | melinda berkeley |
In the Trees
Melinda usually didn't make it a habit to walk alone through the East Campus of UIC when it was deserted like this. It was late at night, the only light provided coming from the metal posts of lamps that dotted the sidewalk, and the twinkling pinpricks of yellow off in the distance that signified downtown and the Loop. The skyscrapers were dark, lumbering figures that towered above the landscape, and they made the brunette feel that much more alone. There was nothing to be done for it, though: she had spent too long in the library, lost track of time, and found that her usual path home was blocked by construction. What was normally a five minute walk turned into a fifteen minute one.
The temperature had swooped down into the high 30s while the telekinetic had been studying, and she wasn't dressed for it. She was wrapped in a black cardigan sweater, clad in jeans, and her low-heeled boots echoed off the concrete as her steps picked up pace. Perhaps the telekinetic should have grabbed someone from the library, asked them to make the trek with her. Surely someone else in the place must have resided in the same building as her. But the thought hadn't occurred to her then, and even if it had, she wouldn't have carried it out at the risk of feeling ridiculous.
Brown eyes scanned the center of campus for an emergency phone, one that wired directly to UIC police. There had been a lot of crime alerts popping up lately in her inbox, attempted and successful muggings, assaults. And while she knew she had one method of protecting herself, her confidence was eroded slightly by the feeling that, if this were a horror movie set, this was would be the moment the monster jumped out and surprised her, in a bad way.
A college campus was an easy place to make a woman disappear.
No matter how many lights illuminated the sidewalks, just off to the side, there was always a huddle of trees or thick shrubs in which to hide. Emergency phones were spaced far apart, and it took minutes for campus police to respond to a call. Walking escorts were often students or security guards with flashlights and radios. Even if a shout echoed across a quad, it so often belonged to a joking student that people became immune to it.
A circling old station wagon was just a directionless parent visiting a student, or a faculty member departing from a late night class.
Horace Berg waited in a group of trees with the quiet stillness of a bird watcher. His fedora tipped low, keeping the orange haze of campus lighting off his weathered face. Inside his coat, he pressed a gun to his barrel-shaped chest. He was looking for a girl of medium height, brown coloring, a high forehead and slightly long chin. She was exotic. He had seen her once before; Mr. Berg always scouted before he took.
Across the plaza, a girl left the library. She wrapped her arms about her midsection to guard against the chill. Her footsteps were a quick, clipped staccato on the ground.
"Cht-cht-cht..." The noise summoned two men to the Collector's sides. One was tall and hunched, his shoulder drooping uncomfortably low, his brow so massive, he couldn't see properly. The other man of a stockier build, his hands malformed and covered with pelt. The Collector adjusted his grip on the tranquilizer gun, an outdated veterinarian's tool.
She dug out her tiny cell phone and her keys, as if they were magical talismans or good-luck charms. Melinda's intuition was at odds with her more conscious thoughts: she veered back and forth from feeling like she was overly paranoid, and feeling like there was an immediate danger lurking just around the metaphorical -- and perhaps even literal -- corner. After a millisecond of deliberation, she keyed in '911' into her phone, her thumb hovering over the send key as if it were a trigger. Just in case.
The brunette continued her walk, eyes scanning around the flat panorama. In every direction around her, it was open and flat with clumps of trees and foliage, decorative concrete planters just the right size for someone to crouch behind, hidden. About three hundred feet ahead, the street. All she had to do was cross that, make a right, and her building would be down the block.
Subconsciously, her muscles began to relax. Her realization that home wasn't so far, letting her instincts off the hook, dismissing them.
The walk would take the girl past the Collector, off to his lefthand side. He drew the weapon with incredible slowness, not wanting her to see a movement or hear the soft scratch of his wool jacket. He lifted it and aimed meticulously at the moving target, the side of her neck. If he went low, it would puncture her shoulder, a suitable alternative. He planned to take multiple shots.
When she was close enough, he fired two quiet rounds in quick succession. The darts split the air with their loaded ampules of animal tranquilizer.
At first, she had the thought that a wasp or bee had stung her. Her palm slapped against her neck, but she could feel no insect there. Instead, something dug deeper into her skin. Pulling it out, Melinda flung it to the ground without thinking or determining what the object was; she was too confused. Blinking once, twice, she attempted to keep walking but her steps turned into unsure stumbles. The cell phone and keys fell out of her hands and clattered to the concrete.
She tried to look around her, but her neck was heavy and stiff, like she had spent the whole night sleeping on it wrong. The toe of her boot caught a deep crack in the sidewalk, and she lost whatever tenuous balance she still possessed.
The Collector lowered his gun. "Quickly," he ordered in a high voice, as brittle and scratchy as sandpaper.
The men flanking him spread out. The stocky one got to Melinda first. His hairy, six-fingered hands fumbled under her armpits, but he was strong as an ox. The taller one lurched along at a slower pace and levered her feet up.
Her brain told her to kick and scream, but the message didn't translate to her muscles. Melinda felt herself being lifted up, and the horror that she couldn't do anything to stop it coursed through her, before it faded to a dull roar in her mind. Everything seemed to be fading out, including the orange artificial light cast upon her. The telekinetic's head lolled back as vague unconsciousness began to set in. Fingers which had previously been clutched into frightened fists uncurled and went slack, and her brown eyes fluttered closed, but not before she saw the dark, misshapen figures hulking over her.
[NPC Collector written by Kate]